


Special Care

by voidoceans



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies)
Genre: Bad Touch, Death Cure Spoilers, M/M, hurt!Thomas, see y'all in hell, some non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 08:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13498154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidoceans/pseuds/voidoceans
Summary: Janson captures Thomas.





	Special Care

**Author's Note:**

> **DO NOT READ THIS FIC IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE MOVIE**
> 
>  
> 
> **SPOILERS IN THE NOTES BELOW**  
> 
> 
> based loosely on the scene after janson kills ava and taunts thomas while he's strapped down. instead of janson getting eaten alive by the cranks, he manages to shoot teresa and escape with a wounded thomas before the building burns down.
> 
> hurt stiles/thomas is a huge kink of mine and one of my favorite things about tmr is all the glorious whump!thomas that is shown throughout the films; everyone _wants_ thomas and he's constantly getting hurt and hunted after. i just love it. and i always got _that_ vibe from janson. i know i'm a sick and twisted person for interpreting their relationship like this, but i can't help it. and after seeing the death cure, i needed to write this fic. sorry if i got some maze runner lore~ wrong btw. sorry if none of this makes sense. lmao. 
> 
> this is for my fellow whump enthusiasts - see y'all in hell.

"What do you think, Thomas?" Janson calls out, keeping his hand steady on the gun aimed at Teresa. 

Thomas doesn't answer, not because he doesn't want to, but because he's so tired. His body is beyond damaged and breathing alone causes him pain. When he opens his mouth to speak, nothing comes out but a hoarse whimper. He wishes it was him Janson was threatening to shoot and put out of his misery. He's slumped against a cabinet, feeling so powerless as he watches his friend - his first love, brace herself for inevitable death. 

After a moment or so of silence, a grim look takes over Janson's face, he raises the gun slightly so it's pointing directly at Teresa's forehead. "Too bad," he says tonelessly. 

Teresa closes her eyes, her body trembles violently, but she tries her best to stand still and strong. On the floor, Thomas is moving inch by inch, squirming on his side because his arms and legs are so numb, he is losing too much blood from the wound in his stomach. 

Janson smiles cooly and Thomas knows that the man can find him easily, that he's going to kill Teresa one way or another. He didn't need her to get to Thomas, he was only testing her to see where her loyalty stood - and now that he knows how she truly feels, and that he saw how she made the cure with Thomas' blood, he has no use for her. 

He laughs as Thomas slides into view, dragging his body between the gun and it's target. Teresa's eyes widen and she can't help but gasp, "Thomas!" 

As if on cue, Janson pulls the trigger and Thomas' world goes black.

~

Thomas wakes up and everything is white. Stark white. There is a blinding light above him, it burns his tired eyes.

 _Am I dead?_ He thinks passively. 

Seconds later, all of his senses come to life and he's bitterly reminded that he is in fact, alive. Everything hurts, his entire body is weighed with a dull and uncomfortable ache, and there's an awful taste of metallic in his mouth; most likely blood.

The only sound in the strange, white space he's in is coming from a monotone beeping pattern. He carefully turns his head to the side, ignoring his swimming vision, and sees a life monitor looming above him. He then looks down at his arm and sees that IV hooked up into his skin, but his blood runs cold when he notices that his wrists are strapped down - much like they were when he was captive at WCKD, when Teresa was taking his blood...

He pulls at his wrist, and he then becomes fully aware that his entire body is strapped down, _exactly_ how it was hours ago...or days ago... _how long has it been?_

Thomas begins to panic, he remembers everything; Teresa's last word was his name. She died trying to protect him. Janson shot her. 

The monitor fills the room with a frantic beeping, and Thomas takes in his surroundings as he struggles against his bonds wildly. He's in a small lab room, there are multiple monitors on the walls with graphs and charts, surveillance pictures of him and his friends plastered everywhere. There's a lab table set up against one of the walls, various instruments scattered across the top. 

Wherever he is, it's not safe. 

Suddenly, a door flies open and a group of four stern faced adults in lab coats come running in. Thomas continues to fight against his restraints and lets out a few frustrated noises, but his voice is still too hoarse and the people flanking his bed ignore him. 

"Check his vitals," someone says. 

They poke at him, taking blood, one of them grabs his face and pulls his lid back, flashing a light into his eye. Thomas yanks his head out of the strong grip and manages to yell out, "STOP!" 

His voice comes out clear and deep, causing a few of the assailants to step back. "A little anesthesia will fix that," a particularly big and ugly man notes while staring down at the captive teen.

"That won't be necessary," a cool voice coming from the open door retorts. The group turns around and Thomas lifts his head up to see Janson standing in the doorway, surveying the spectacle before him.

A mousy looking woman steps forward, "He needs to rest, if he continues to exhaust himself he will never be able to leave this room."

"I see no issue with that," Janson counters, his eyes landing on Thomas.

"He won't live without extensive care if he doesn't heal in here. Getting blood from him will be an even bigger chore than it already is," the big and ugly man says. 

Janson considers this but continues to stare at Thomas with an inexplicable expression his face. The boy squirms slightly but he decides reserving his energy for escape is more practical. 

"Leave," Janson commands, "I want to talk to him alone."

The small group leave the room as quickly as they came in, and Thomas finds himself alone with the man he hates more than anyone and anything he's ever come in contact with in his short and miserable existence. 

Janson smiles softly as he drags a chair closer to the bed, it's legs squeaking loudly across the tiled floor. He settles himself right next to the bed, parallel to Thomas' bound torso. "How are you feeling?" He asks. 

Thomas glares hatefully at him then wrenches against the straps, every fiber in his being wanting nothing more than to reach out and strangle the man to death. He snarls, "You killed her."

"Isn't that what you wanted, Thomas?" Janson picks some lint off his shirt, a bored expression displayed on his beaten and bruised face. Thomas feels some bitter satisfaction knowing that most of those bruises came from their fight. 

"I want _you_ dead," Thomas whispers, trying his best to push the memory of Teresa's lifeless body falling to the floor out of his head. 

Janson chuckles and leans back into the chair, crossing his arms casually, as if he were making mundane conversation and not antagonizing a tied up teenager. "I want a lot of things too, Thomas," he eyes the boy steadily, "do you know what I want?" 

"You want to torture me, make me suffer as much as you're able to, then kill me," Thomas says defeatedly. 

Janson laughs again, "Kill you? I don't want to kill you, Thomas. Remember what I said? I'm going to take _special_ care of you." He leans in and Thomas instinctively presses himself further into the bed. "I always keep my promises," Janson continues in a low voice, "I promised you that I'd keep you alive, and I promised those WCKD employees who were in here that I'd keep them safe from the virus, and-"

Thomas interrupts him, "You also promised Ava that you had her back and you killed her, so obviously you're not to be trusted."

He watches as Janson's smug little smile slides off his face, replaced by a cold smirk. "That was unfortunate, but you see, I'm quite picky when it comes to my friends. Ava was not. She would have drained you for all you were worth to cure every fucking person that walked those streets. You should be grateful that I have you..."

"I would have died for my friends and she knew that, she would have saved them for me, you think this is better?" Thomas' voice is getting louder, the heart monitor beeping considerably faster. "You think keeping me alive just to supply you and your crooked friends blood is more valuable than potentially saving the entire popula-"

It's Janson's turn to intervene, he slaps a hand on Thomas' mouth, muffling the venomous accusations. "You're a spirited boy, Thomas, but not a smart one," he snarks. "You're more useful to me than that. I'm not just selecting those who are worthy enough for your blood, I intend to repopulate this earth...and you think the women in status out there will want to do so with a codger like me or a good, clean boy like yourself?"

Thomas' eyes widen and he begins to thrash wildly against Janson's hand, the monitor is going haywire with the beeping, so Janson leans across the bed and yanks the pulse oximetry off the boy's finger, causing the monitor to flatline, then he yanks the plug out of the wall so the thing shuts off entirely.

He settles back into his chair, still keeping his hand on Thomas' mouth. "No need to fret, as I told you, I am very selective. Only the best will be given to you, children of high status will be born. Our new world will be _pure_ and rid of all filth."

Tears fill Thomas' eyes and he thinks of his friends, the 'filth' Janson is most likely referring to. At the sight of tears, Janson releases Thomas' mouth and the boy speaks, his voice small, "Please, just drain me. Take my blood and kill me." He cannot live a life of slavery, not when being trapped and hunted down is all he could remember of his life. 

Janson smiles - not sympathetically, but cruelly. He touches Thomas' cheek and the boy flinches, he trails his finger down to his mouth and traces his split bottom lip. "You'll be doing the world a big favor, Thomas. I intend on keeping you safe from anyone else that might want to hurt you. You know how many desperate and sick people out there would kill to get their hands on you? I won't let that happen, I'm going to protect you, and you're going to return the favor."

"You already cured yourself," Thomas says, referring to when Janson injected himself with the cure back at WCKD's headquarters. 

Janson touches Thomas' neck and slides his finger down to the collar of his shirt. "I have been watching you since you were a child," Janson murmurs heatedly, still ghosting his fingertips along Thomas' skin, "I have seen you grow from the timid and spineless little boy you were then to the strong and resilient young man you have proven to be now. I have wanted nothing more than to contain that fire that burns inside of you, to keep you locked away and beat the spirit out of your body...now I have you, now you get to give me what is mine..." And with that, Janson grabs the back of Thomas' head, fingers laced through his thick hair and gives him a harsh yank, eliciting a yelp from the boy; he claims Thomas' open mouth with his own - their lips smashed together in a brutal, loveless kiss. 

Thomas' heart is beating tremendously against his chest, if he was still hooked up the monitor would have exploded by now. His limbs once again strain against his bonds, fighting to free himself from this assault. He's sick to his stomach, to think that Janson has been watching him all these years; harboring a sick and twisted obsession with him that went beyond revenge. 

He feels Janson's hands exploring his body now, cold and callous hands sneaking under his shirt and touching more of his skin, gliding past the stitched wound on his stomach. The man's tongue still invading his mouth, Thomas can feel it thrashing against his own tongue and teeth. 

_Teeth._

Without hesitation, Thomas does the one thing he could think of - he bites down, hard, on Janson's tongue. 

A wounded howl bounces off the walls of the room as Janson falls backwards, a hand covering his bleeding mouth. Thomas leans his head over the side of the bed and spits out a clump of blood. It's taste making him gag, but he feels victorious. 

He's breathing heavily, adrenaline pulsating through his bruised body. If he wasn't tied up, he'd take advantage of Janson's weakness and lunge forward to give him the beating of a lifetime. But unfortunately, he _is_ tied up, and after a moment or so of heavy breathing and Janson cursing under his breath, the man looks at Thomas, enraged. 

"You'll be wishing you hadn't done that."

~

It's been at least a month since Thomas was removed from the lab room and put into his new prison. Well, from an outsider's point of view they'd hardly call it a prison - it's a modest sized room; walls and floor covered in beautiful fabrics, seemingly collected from various countries around the world. Pillows of the same design padded the floor, making the room one big, lavish bed. There is also a small, brightly colored bathroom in there as well, but no door to separate it from the main room. Other than that, It's a luxury to be in that room, at least, when you're free and not chained to a pole like Thomas is.

Everyday he dedicates at least an hour to working on freeing himself from the chain wrapped tightly around his waist, but there hasn't been any progress, especially with the padlock that Janson had added on a week ago when he noticed Thomas clawing at it. At least the chain is long enough for Thomas to walk around the entire room, but the sound of it rattling and clanging against the pole in the corner that it's attached to makes him wince, reminding him how he really is just a slave now. 

He's dressed in black sweats and a white shirt - _White looks good on you_ , Janson remarked. He was given socks and slippers and food is delivered to him three times a day. When blood isn't being drawn, or random women aren't coming in and sleeping with him, Thomas is bored and frustrated. 

Janson has kept true to his word; every week he brings a woman in, there are only two that he switches from. They're both considerably older than Thomas, and dressed very nicely but smell kind of funky. They don't really speak to him and they don't hurt him, so he doesn't seem to mind too much when they come in. He actually, in a bizarre way, enjoys the intimacy. He's usually on top and doing most of the work, they just lay there and give short orders every now and then. Although he's being held against his will and forced to have sex with these women, he is still a teenage boy and in need of a release - sometimes you have to make do with what you're given. 

And he's decided that he'd rather sleep with those women all day, everyday, then have to deal with Janson coming in and tormenting him. The man has only done this every so often, Thomas reckons he's been too preoccupied building the 'new world' or 'playing God' as he puts it. 

When he does saunter in, he either beats Thomas as punishment for disobedience or for no reason at all. The beating is something Thomas can handle, he can grit his teeth and hold on to the pole for stability as Janson whacks him with a stick or paddles him with a wooden plank. It's the _touching_ that drives Thomas to the brink of insanity. 

Janson says awful, disgusting things about what he wants to do Thomas, how he's going to do it, but he never carries those threats through. He just corners the boy against the wall or holds him down on the pillows and touches him. His cold and clammy hands pushing the white t-shirt up, fingers dancing across the exposed skin of his belly, folding over the waistband of the sweats and sneering at Thomas' growls to _get off_ or the pleads to _stop it'._

Thomas especially hates it when Janson kisses him, when the man coos and taunts, licking his neck and peppering kisses all over his face, telling him that he's a _good boy_ and that _he's all his._

"Look at the life you've been given," Janson tells him one day, opening his arms wide and looking around the room, "you live like a prince and you don't seem one bit appreciative of it." 

"I never knew any princes that were held against their will, chained up like an animal, and forced to procreate," Thomas snarls. 

Janson laughs, he's been in such a good mood since he's moved Thomas to this room. "Only you would complain about women practically being delivered to you for sex." 

"I don't care about them, it's _you_ orchestrating this whole thing," Thomas snaps, "and it's you...molesting me at any given moment." 

Janson shrugs impassively, "I have needs too."

"Well get your needs from someone else, someone willing, and leave me alone," Thomas says.

At this, Janson chuckles and shakes his head. He bends down into a squat so he's eye level with his captive, "I'm in love with your spirit," he says quietly, his eyes scanning Thomas' face carefully, "and your ferocity, I don't want anyone else. Don't get me wrong, Thomas, you're _not_ special - not in the grand scheme of things - but you're special to me." 

Thomas rolls his eyes, "You're a fucking liar. Kill me or leave me alone." 

Janson ignores him and reaches out to touch his face, Thomas flinches and begins to lean back but Janson grabs hold of the chain and pulls on it, causing Thomas to gasp from the pressure around his middle and he falls forward, so he collapses right into Janson's arms. He's then manhandled into a position where his back is pressed up against Janson's chest and his head is leaning back on the older man's shoulder. 

He feels Janson's arms snake around him once more, squeezing him. "Don't you get tired of this same song and dance, Thomas? Just be a good boy and comply," Janson mutters, his nose is pressed against Thomas' neck and he inhales his scent, "it's almost like you think this will end."

Thomas feels tears welling up in his eyes, but he stares ahead at the fabric wall, his jaw set and a fire burning deep within his belly. "There _will_ be an end. They will come for me," he says almost to himself than Janson.

He feels Janson smile, and trembles when the man kisses his skin. "Who's they," he asks, "your pathetic and incompetent friends?"

Thomas nods, "They'll find me and we'll put an end to all of this." 

"Really?" Janson mocks, "That's what's been forming inside that pretty little head of yours? Hope that those degenerates are gonna swoop in and save you?" He lets out an ugly cackle. "You and me both know it's over for them, Thomas. I've got a squad out there hunting them down, it's only a matter of time before they find and destroy them. So keep dreaming, if it helps you sleep at night, but just know that it's useless for you to hold onto that sliver of hope you've got left."

Thomas closes his eyes, sealing his tears, he has to hold back a sigh of relief, because Janson inadvertently told him what he needed to hear - _his friends were alive_. Minho, Brenda, Jorge, Frypan, and Gally were still alive...and they were most likely looking for him. 

As Janson presses into him, hands groping and pawing at his clothes and skin, leaving careless kisses and slobbers all over his neck and face, he keeps his eyes closed and breathes deeply. His heart flutters and the reality around him melts away as he envisions his escape. 

For the first time since he woke up in the box that brought him to the glade, he's hopeful.

**Author's Note:**

> hope whoever read this liked it! sorry i sorta suck at endings, i didn't want it to be completely miserable lol


End file.
